


Long Days Make for Sleepy Agents

by sociopathic_fangirl_on_Drugs



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Multi, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociopathic_fangirl_on_Drugs/pseuds/sociopathic_fangirl_on_Drugs
Summary: Self-indulgent fluff and dog slobber. That's it.





	Long Days Make for Sleepy Agents

**Author's Note:**

> Only Sal belongs to me, sadly. Mistakes are mine and formatting stories is hard on a phone.

The blanket gets caught on my arm as I turn, but the warm body next to me makes it insignificant. He hums and the arm across my thigh moves to lay across my stomach and tightens lightly. The round of snuggle repositioning stalls, then ends as I hear Deac drift off with a soft huff. Not surprising today. We were run ragged at HQ, running from one dead drop to the next until we became the dead drop. Not to mention Tom testing some of his new ballistic fiber modifications by having us go at each other with knives and lead pipes, and sometimes the stun batons we recently acquired from some Gen 2s. I may or may not have had a little too much fun with that last one.

Deac shifts closer in his sleep, nuzzling into my shoulder subconsciously. Or maybe it's unconsciously. I can never remember which one to use. I lean into the embrace, savoring the squish of the couch, the softness of the blanket on me and the warm breath snuffling its way across my neck. A small snore comes from the other exhausted Railroad agent. He only snores when he's truly dead on his feet but, either way, I'm used to it. My parents snored. My dad in particular snored like a freight train on steroids. My boys snoring is like sleep aid at this point. A soft, rhythmic sound indicative of peace and domesticity. Music to the ears, if you will.

My eyelids are still drooping, feeling weighted and sluggishly slow to open. I let them drift close and just listen. The small bundle of guards on the night shift sharing a meal, the rustle of leaves in the soft autumn breeze. So peaceful. My mind relaxes as my eyelids did hours ago. The sounds rumble around in my head and they carry me into a deep sleep.

\------------

I wake to my hand tingling with nerves, going numb, and I dimly feel something moving along my fingers. “Uhh Sal?” He sounds so groggy and a, for once, deep sleep has made his voice husky and rough. It's nice. “It's Dogmeat, isn't it?” He exhales lazily. “Nah, it's Bobby.” He laughs again at his own joke. “Yeah. He seems insistent on food.” My eyes slide open with great effort to find Dogmeat assaulting my hand with his tongue and his warm, ‘innocent’ brown eyes pleading for food. “Alright buddy. Give us a minute.” He sits back on his haunches.

“Actually, you know what? Bring me my Pip-Boy.” He bounds over to it, inefficient given how the coffee table it's resting on is three feet away. When he finally grasps it right in his jaws and drops it in my lap, it's covered in slobber. “Eww. Nice one, pooch.” Dogmeat smiles. “Whatcha doin’ with it?” I turn the upper left dial until I get to the radio tab and turn another dial to start the recording. “Could you be, like, super nice and bring us food, please?” I turn the second dial back and connect to another Pip-Boy signal. Slowly it fills a bar and pops up a happy-looking, thumbs up Vault Boy with the text ‘Transmission Complete!’. “Getting Bobby to bring us breakfast so neither of us has to get up.” Deac hums and wraps back around me. “So smart. I love you.” I laugh. “Food is all it takes, huh?” “Yep. You got me. Got a total weakness for free food.” “Don't we all?”

The room lapses into a comfortable silence waiting for Bobby. I almost fall asleep again before the door rattles with a knock, is unlocked, and opens. “Hey sleeping beauties. Have a nice beauty sleep?” Deac’s head raises to meet Bobby’s gaze. “Clearly. Can't you tell by how gorgeous we are? Get over here, take a look.” Bobby chuckles as he walks over with a bowl in each hand, both filled to the brim with grainmeal, a name I've been trying out for razorgrain oatmeal, and topped with some small slices of tato. The scent wafts across from the coffee table as he sets them down.

“Hey. What's the big idea?” He ignores me and places a hand on De’s jawline, Bobby’s thumb swiping over his cheekbones and lips. De turns and kisses the pad of the wandering thumb. Bobby’s other hand finds its way into my hair, petting and tousling it in a soothing pattern. “You guys really are worn out. Look at you. All pliant and lazy.” We both hum in answer and Bobby laughs. “You still gonna be awake for breakfast or I am gonna have to prop you up and spoon-feed you both?” His smile widens as De nods weakly. “That wasn't a yes or no question, dummy.” De huffs. “Yeah well, maybe I don't care. Maybe I think you should stay and cuddle while we eat and listen to the radio.” The hand in my hair tugs lightly as I pull away to nuzzle into Deac’s neck. “You're a fucking genius, babe.” “Thanks sweet puss. You're not so bad yourself.” Bobby pulls away with a soft grin and fiddles with my Pip-Boy until it lets out a soft crackle and bleeds out a lulling Frank Sinatra song. He comes back with the bowls in his hands and squeezes onto the other end of the couch.

“A little room, here?” I groan as De scoots until he's propped himself on the arm of the couch and my head is on his stomach. I make grabby hands at Bobby until he pulls me up to sit cross-legged in the middle. We reach out to Bobby for the bowls at the same time and De smacks his hand into my arm. “Owww.” I drop the recently injured arm but accept the hot, steaming bowl and pass it down the couch. “Sorry.” “Not your fault. It's Tom’s.” Bobby grabs a mutfruit, no idea where he got it, and cuts it up. We lapse into silence again, eating and listening to the Bunker Hill radio station.

“All we're missing is the cuddling.” Immediately Deac extends his leg out and swings it onto my lap. I shove at him playfully, but motion for him to do the same with his other leg and he does, softer this time. “Leaving me out, huh? I see how it is.” I lean to the side until I thunk into Bobby. “There. Happy Mac?” Heh. He's a Happy Meal. De leans and kisses my shoulder. Peaceful. Home. Bobby’s hand finds its way into my hair again, free of irradiated fruit. I hum and lull into a heap of comfortable, empty-headed, content wife. This is home. This is where I feel loved and safe. Right here.


End file.
